


eclipsed

by NerumiH



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Divergence - soulmate AU, F/M, Spoilers for the ENTIRE GAME start to finish, i literally cant write anything but angst anymore save me from myself, imagine how is touch the sky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerumiH/pseuds/NerumiH
Summary: It comes as a shock, to see the world weaving itself. It floods with an unfamiliar shimmer and depth as she steps towards him, haloed in it.He has no words for it, but her locks match the threads that shine in the garden gates, her eyes match the glowing gossamer above their heads, and her hands match his own.au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsheliaHime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsheliaHime/gifts).



> For Nadine, per request! I’m really glad to share something huge like this game with you again! Idk…maybe we’re both sappy ;) hope you like it although it's a little small - or so i feel [stares at word count] betrayed again
> 
> Honestly, I’m pree frightened to be posting again…it’s been a while that I wrote anything for something with canon… Sorry for any plot discrepancies, canon diversion, assorted idiocy. The game’s new, I’m ridiculous…y’know.
> 
> probably best read while listening to Emi Evans's tracks for Drakengard 3...that's all i listened to when i wrote it and it was pretty k. so maybe

It comes as a shock, to see the world weaving itself. It floods with an unfamiliar shimmer and depth as she steps towards him, haloed in it. As of yet, he has no words for it, but her locks match the threads that shine in the garden gates, her eyes match the glowing gossamer above their heads, and her hands match his own. He’s staggered as if she’s lifted a veil from his eyes, and she’s crystal clear. And bright. Brighter than anything he’s ever seen.

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret,” she introduces herself. Her smile is already serene and wise, and he endures the feather-light delusion that her eyes do not only reflect the sky, but much, much more.

He’s quiet for too long; his father pats his shoulder encouragingly and offers, “And this is Prince Noctis.”

She nods and gives him another glowing smile, and her gaze won’t leave the depths of his.

.x.

He doesn’t want to tell anyone because he doesn’t want to seem silly, but behind his back, knowing smiles are traded between the staff as he and Luna (she told him to call her that) marvel at the newness of the garden and the castle and the paintings and the food and the people, side by side. That which surrounds them seems to extend forever, sinking and swaying in the depths of colour and shade. That which is warm feels more comforting; the cold bites hard. Everything shines. Everything feels alive and eternal, further than they can reach but inviting them with beckoning softness to try.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” she breathes as they stand back to back and pivot, gazes turned up to the kaleidoscope ceiling of the ballroom. She teaches him: above them are streams and oceans of _gold_ , _silver, emerald, sapphire_. Colours all as precious as those jewels. He wonders why Regis didn’t tell him anything about what he’d see, but it’s always been like his dad to let him learn things on his own.

“It’s weird,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t _really_ see the world for all this time…”

He drifts off, uncertain how to explain himself. She picks up for him. Her voice floats under the aurora, calm and sure. “It was still real, before we met. But this…it’s different.”

They stop turning.

“There is a completely new world with _you_ ,” she whispers. “And we have yet to see the other half of it. Stay awake with me?”

.x.

A maid fetches a pair of blankets and they sit in the gardens on a porch swing shaded by the arms of a tree (bearing flowers in periwinkle, the petals light as they drift on the night breeze into their hair). He’s grown sleepy but telling her would be too embarrassing – besides, even if he knows that they have every day together, there’s something too special in her awe to miss this time around.

The sky is black. He’s seen much black – much grey and white, now appearing cold and empty by comparison. But this is different. The horizon glows with the last watery flecks of what she tells him was the sunset. She’s disappointed that they missed it. High above their heads hangs a canopy of stars, the colours pulsing as they quietly watch. The city lights bloom and dance. And peeking between the branches is the glow of the bubbled surface of the moon, like gold poured right into the sky.

When the horizon fades to black, Luna lowers her head in a quiet prayer. He feels like he should follow suit, but is too caught up in watching her curiously that she lifts her head just when he makes up his mind.

She smiles to the sky, letting her eyes drift closed. “Although it’s night, it doesn’t seem so dark anymore.”

After a beat, he fidgets. “Do you think it’s…how it’s changed, do you think it’s because of the goddesses?”

“This world is their making,” she explains, eyes still closed. “But perhaps this shows that it is only complete with one another. One cannot walk alone.”

He hums agreement and looks away when her eyes slip open. He says, “We’ll get a chance to see the sunset again?”

“Of course. The sun will always set and rise.”

“Do you want to stay up again?”

Emphatic, she nods and smiles. Her skin dotted in stars, the pastel underbelly of the flowers glowing on her cheeks. “The beauty of the day weaving with the night…I’m sure that I’ll never tire of it.”

.x.

Her visit continues. He’s seen it all already, but with every new trip into the city and countryside, the world expands and awes him even more. What once felt like tired old recitations are now flourishing landscapes, the paint flowing under his fingertips, Luna casting light upon all they explore.

There’s the chill blue of water, the rich shine of silver in his father’s crown. Endless fields in green tapestry. When one day, Luna isn’t there, there’s umber, bronze, dirt clouding the glossy black of the vehicles as they travel. The flash of flesh, red bubbling and winding rivers, the white of pain cutting behind his eyes and bleaching it all in a reminder of what he had.

White – white, the most familiar of what there once was.

He wakes up in a room just as pale, with a nurse asking if he’d like to try his chair, but Luna’s eyes are just as blue as he’s always known her, and his fear is gone.

.x.

“You’ll see the sunset with me again, won’t you?”

She extends a hand to him in the palace’s marble courtyard. A flock of cars line the road, all bound for her home. The dogs dance around her feet and the wheels of Noctis’s chair. He holds the storybook in his lap, fingers clutching the gold and cobalt cover, and fixates on her open palm though he’s unable to let go of the pages.

“Won’t you, Noctis?”

He gives a curt nod. Umbra is warm against his leg, hugging protectively against him like usual.

Luna sighs and crouches so she can meet his eyes over the book; she rests a hand delicately atop it. “Even if we’re not together, I’ll watch with you. I’ll be far away, but we share the same sky. The same colours.”

He nods again, his eyes starting to sting.

“It’s because of you that the goddesses showed me their earth, their gifts. If I had not had the chance to meet you…”

She drifts off, gazing at the book, but she still smiles. Her composure is unwavering but her hair spills over her face and he’s reminded of when he first saw her, how she glowed from the inside out and warmed the world around him with her steps towards him and by saying, _Lunafreya_ , and he knew this was special enough for him to be terrified to lose it.

She whispers with a lilt of amusement, “Of _course_ we met. There was no avoiding it. The King does not walk alone, nor does the Oracle.”

She lifts her head and the serenity upon her face has shimmered and cracked, the slightest sadness to her smile. “Noctis; we may be apart, but we will always be in step. You will never walk in solitude. You will never watch the slumber of the world alone, no matter how dark the world becomes. Goodbye.”

She begins to stand and the stammer breaks forth, his nails digging into the book cover: “I – I’ll see you again, won’t I?”

Her hand rests on his. Pale and pink under her fingertips like the roots of flower petals, laced with pale veins as dark as the deep waters.

She whispers, “In time,” and her aids call for her at the bottom of the silver steps.

.x.

As she distances, he lays in bed and turns the pages of the book, unable to concentrate enough to really understand it. Hours expire and the sky darkens outside his window, and the light that pours in with the setting sun is grey.

.x.

Years pass and he learns that he’s unexpectedly unique. He keeps his brief encounter with the completion of the world from his friends; all they’ve known is monochrome. He encourages Prompto’s ridiculous predictions and good-naturedly jabs at Ignis along with Gladio, saying if his love for being a stickler hasn’t changed anything then surely he’s doomed to never see. His father says absently that he thinks he must have forgotten the colour of the sea, but he’ll never forget that of his queen’s favourite gem. And Noctis has seen the world fall to a dull chrome night so many times that he turns his back to it and just watches his shadow spread beyond the reach of his fingertips.

He trades letters with her through the book. Gladio berates him, saying he didn’t hook him up with a cell phone for nothing and he’d better add some digits in the next message, but he conveniently forgets every time. Even if the best thing they have to say is a gripe or two about a political conference, he still likes tracing his finger over the indent of her handwriting. He imagines her hand gliding over the page, the colour of parchment spreading beneath like ripples in a pond.

.x.

“I wonder how amazing these look to people who can see ­ _it_ ,” Prompto says breathlessly, flipping through his photographs. “Once you see Luna at the wedding, give me your honest opinion, huh? Maybe I’m some kind of prodigy and I don’t even know it yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, _duh_. Oracle, King, marriage – I mean, not like I put a stick up my ass and waddle to church every day, but even I know that there’s a divine, _soul-bound_ reason behind this kind of stuff. I’m no idiot, Noct.”

He snorts and nudges Prompto, lowering his head. “Don’t tease me – maybe my honest opinion won’t be so nice.”

.x.

_Luna,_

_Sorry for the wait. Umbra ran into something nasty on the way here; I couldn’t let her go back hurt. Not like you missed anything. Dad’s dragging me all over the country, trying to get in the good graces with the clergy and the filthy rich and whoever. He’s been real dad-ish about it, too. I fell asleep on one ride and he was fixing my hair and clothes once he dragged me out of the car; turns out that ~~the~~ ~~aristocrat businessman senator???~~ the guy we were supposed to meet had come out to the parkade to greet us. Talk about humiliated. Surprised he didn’t just go the whole nine yards and lick his thumb to get dirt off my face._

_Anyways…the trip’s soon. I hope the planning hasn’t been the total worst on your end. Ignis stuck his nose in it so he got advanced sketches of your wedding dress…probably so he can get our tailor to coordinate my suit a ridiculous amount. I’m expecting a train too. Maybe a tiara._

_Speaking of, I’m taking the guys with me. Make sure there’s a nice ~~shack~~ hotel room for them._

_Soon,_

_Noct._

…

_Dearest Noctis,_

_Thank you for taking care of Umbra. She’s arrived here safe and sound – perhaps invigorated by your pampering. I can’t imagine it was the **prince** himself who fashioned her with a new collar…you give her more gifts than you give me, I fear!_

_I’ll make all proper accommodations for your friends. We do have some nice places just outside the city that maybe even have a phone signal, if they’re willing to stand on a nearby hill. (Silliness aside, I’m very eager to meet them; what do you recommend for their guest rooms in the palace? I think it would be nice to give them each a small gift. You’ve only given me caricatures about them…and I feel as if giving Ignis a new handkerchief would be a little on the nose.)_

_Now, Noctis…I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a melancholic time – maybe it’s all this wedding planning that’s made me think so much of you. I am a little afraid, if you will excuse me; a wedding…I have many grander affairs on my horizon, but nothing feels more important in this moment. But my fears are assuaged when I think of seeing you again._

_It’s more than seeing the world again, Noctis; you’re more than just that to me. Seeing the world as it truly is would be nothing without you at my side._

_Your eyes – blue as the sky under which I met you. I do not know which I long to see more._

_Best wishes, my prince,_

_Lunafreya._

.x.

They pile into the gondola at the entrance to the city. Prompto won’t stop jiggling his leg and Ignis keeps placing a well-meaning but firm hand atop it to calm him; Gladio keeps an eye on Noctis as he leans over the edge of the boat and stares into the smoky water.

Although the world has never felt as dull and empty, he watches the water slowly fill with colour and depth until the bottom of the channel glistens pollen-yellow and the stream shines with the brightest blue that takes his breath away, and his heart lifts, just enough.

She nears, just over the horizon. It is midday.

He only has to wait a little while until the sun sets.

.x.

It is just as gradual as when she left the first time.

The sky spins with thunderclouds and acidic storms. A vortex tunnels his vision as he lays on the crumbled stone. The rippling silver of Leviathan rears above. And from the earth spreads the darkness.

He watches as it chokes out the sable stone beneath his body and the angry ochre of the suffocated sunlight, the blue fading into grey, storm clouds growing heavy and dark with blackened ash. It rains upon him, and the sky looks empty and enormous and endless, forbidding him to reach it.

This is it.

This is the expanse of the world, built for gods.

The sun bows to the monochrome dark, touching the horizon with one desperate hand.

.x.

Ignis’s scars are a mottled, ashen grey, left behind by the brightest of sparks. Blood flecks like coal in Noctis’s clothes, dried on the white sheets when he awakens. And his shadow pours beyond his fingertips. Black.

The flower in the book is nothing. It is skeletal, colourless, slipping away through the pages.

.x.

Shiva is a pure white snowstorm. The backs of his friends meld into the shadows, and at times he hopes that he does too, running ahead and getting lost and ignoring their calls. Ignis doesn’t need to say it – now he’ll _never_ know what Noctis had, and a part of the prince is sharp-toothed and vicious and glad, cowering over his secrets like a sleeping dragon in a cave. He’ll never have it again. The world was torn away from him, and Luna was ripped from his grasp, and as he faces the spectral kings, he wonders if it _all_ will be.

The embrace of empty time is painful, but he has walked in an empty world for too long. The world he returns to is much darker. The god of fire faces a man who has watched ash bury him again and again, and it is not fear, this time. It is not loneliness, but it is a loss that colours an empty world with that slash of white from so long ago. This time – he may open his eyes and meet no childish bedroom or wheelchair or halo of flowers, but he knows that if kings may reside on the other side, so can goddesses, even if they are only eternal to him.

He closes his fist in the light and is proud to feel it burn.

.

.x.

.

“Noctis.”

She moves to the side of his throne, ethereal and dressed in pure white, but still warm. This time when she extends her hand, he takes it and she guides him to his feet.

Her hands still match his, though he is no longer carnation-pale and the lines of age and wear wind through his palm. Rivers ribbon under her skin, like the veins in the flesh of petals. She takes him to the edge of the steps, into a pool of yellow light that drips across the marble. She turns her face to the shattered wall.

Sunlight blooms across her face – it’s orange on her chest, pink across her lips, her eyes drifting shut and catching the gold on her eyelashes. As they watch, the horizon of their world swells beyond the castle with all the colours he kept in his memory since it all faded away, and it glows against his skin.


End file.
